Tough Love
by Authoress-in-training
Summary: A low, almost darkly amused chuckle filled the room. "You're my daughter, all right." - There are two sides to every story. This is mine. Haylee-centric


**Author's Note: Okay, I actually really hate stories like this – that can't stand alone _at all_ – but this is basically part of a series, and will make absolutely no sense if you've found it on its own and not been sent here by ch. 15 of What's Left of Me. If that's you, please go to my profile and read my trilogy story first (starts with What Comes Next). If that's not your thing, then I'm sorry to have wasted your time. But this really cannot be understood without that.**

**So now for the rest of you… enjoy!**

* * *

"Well, Miss DiGiacomo, I believe congratulations are in order." The doctor paused. "You're pregnant."

Pale blue eyes just stared.

Isabella DiGiacomo was many things, but she was far from an idiot. When the nausea, and dizzy spells, and uncontrollable cravings started, she'd had an inkling of what might've caused them. But she'd buried that thought away, hoping against hope that there was another explanation; the first time in her life she ever wished to be wrong.

So it wasn't shock that kept her frozen in place so much as it was paralyzing realization. She'd spent her entire life in constant control of herself and her desires – for this exact reason! – and the one time she slipped up, it ended up costing her everything.

_Life's a bitch_.

(As if she didn't know that already.)

"Miss DiGiacomo?" She blinked, staring back at the annoyingly cheerful doctor in his ridiculous monk's robes. He hesitated, clutching his clipboard. "Do you… know who the father is?"

Unbidden, a wave of memories flooded her mind, almost painful in their intensity. She could almost feel his fingers on her skin, his lips unyielding against her own; the force with which he took what she had offered willingly, but soon after regretted. Shame swept over her, bitter and burning; a quite unfamiliar emotion. "Yes," she admitted, lowering her eyes. "But he's…"

She tried to imagine the look on the Light Rock doctor's face if she told him that she was carrying Baltor's baby. It had been about a month since she and her sisters had been hauled off to the 'Zen' correctional facility for the second time, and contact with the outside world was all but nonexistent, but she knew the shockwaves of their year of conquering still had to be rippling out through the dimension. The first time around had taught her valuable survival skills; she had no desire to bring any more prejudice down on herself than already existed.

"He's not reliable," she finished finally. "What happened between us was not a long-term thing. I doubt he'd feel any sense of obligation to me if he knew. And I don't want him to know," she added quickly, feeling an old familiar anger flare up inside of her. _I don't even know if the bastard's still alive_, she added in her head. _Of course, that _would_ be like him, to disappear and leave me to deal with the consequences._

The doctor simply nodded and made some kind of note on his clipboard. "This is a rather… unusual case for our facility, as I'm sure you must know. We are in no way equipped to handle a pregnancy, and in diverting time and resources to you, we would be neglecting other guests." She gave him a blank stare, and he finally put the pen down and looked down at her over the top of her clipboard. "You have not graduated from the program yet, Miss DiGiacomo, and based on your current progress, you would not be ready for quite some time. But given the circumstances, we are prepared to let you leave."

She sat up a little straighter. _I could leave this place?_

"Ah, so you are still alive in there." His lips twisted into a sort of half smirk that looked at odds with his ponytail and monk's robes. "There are some stipulations, of course. You will need to be evaluated by our therapist, and he will decide if you are capable of not abusing this tremendous gift. You will have your powers bound so that any high-level use of dark magic will send an alert to our staff, who have the right to collect you and send you back here if they deem it necessary. And you must agree in a legally binding magic oath to never again return to the planets on which you are wanted for charges of terrorism. Any breach of that contract and you will be left to the hands of the individual governments, which I can promise will not be as nice to you as we are prepared to be. I think some of them even still employ the death penalty."

She felt her back slump again. _So they'd still be treating me like a common criminal. Some release._

"There are options, of course," he continued. "Our staff here are not trained for this, but arrangements could be made to take you to a more specialized hospital, where they are capable of performing such a procedure. You could continue the program, graduate, and be allowed to go wherever you want, with no restrictions."

"So those are my choices? Abortion or isolation?"

The doctor blanched, looking more than a little uncomfortable at her bluntness. She bit her lip to keep from smirking. "…Yes."

There was no denying that she wanted out of Light Rock; two minutes in this place was enough to make any decent dark magic user want to hurl. But could she really handle being a mother? The answer in her head was looking more like a no than a yes.

But when she tried to imagine going through with the abortion, her skin wanted to crawl off her own body. She'd never thought of herself as being particularly pro-life, but something deep inside of her just would not let her picture killing her child.

_Her child_…

One hand rested almost absently on her stomach, as if she could feel the new life growing under her fingertips. _So maybe my life didn't turn out the way I thought it would. This could be a chance to start over. I could raise this child to be everything I never was._

"Miss DiGiacomo? Do you require more time to make your decision?"

She took a deep breath. "No, I know what I'm going to do." The monk-doctor looked at her expectantly. "I'm keeping it."

* * *

"Mommy, Mommy! Look what I made today!"

Isabella leaned over, looking at the rather sloppy crayon drawing of a mountain, a house, and two people. "It's beautiful, sweetie," she cooed, reaching up to push a piece of hair off her daughter's face. "Did you have a nice day at school?"

"Mmm-hmm." Wide, eager pale blue eyes stared back at her, shining with love. "Can we go get ice cream in town?"

She tapped her chin and pretended to think. "Hmm… I think that could be arranged."

"Yay!" Isabella laughed, ruffling Haylee's hair and then reaching down to take her six-year-old's hand.

Six years. Had it really been that long?

Any second thoughts she might've had about her decision vanished the second the doctor put tiny Haylee into her arms. For the first time in her life, Isabella had something _positive_ to live for, to work towards. Even her sisters, who thought she'd gone crazy when she relocated to Earth, thought that their niece was adorable (although they certainly tried hard enough to hide it).

Earth. Of all the places she could have gone, this was certainly the last one anyone would've expected her to go. Which was, of course, exactly why she'd done it. This new life, hidden in a remote mountain village in a country called Italy, was so far removed from her life in the magical dimension that it almost felt like they were two separate people.

She had no delusions that she would be able to hide the existence of magic from her daughter (she was just about the same age when her powers came in as a child), or even her past eventually (the girl was _such_ a curious little thing), but with all the mountains and simple village people around her, sometimes she was almost able to forget the person she used to be.

"Mommy?"

Blinking, she looked back at Haylee, who was now holding a giant chocolate ice cream cone, a couple smudges of chocolate on her cheeks and chin. She must have spaced out again, because she had no recollection of ending up in the ice cream shop, or paying for the treat. It had been happening a lot lately; if it continued, maybe she would have to go see a doctor, although she tried to avoid that because there were certain magic diseases that would have a human doctor utterly baffled. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"How… how come my daddy's never around?"

Her heart contracted like someone had it in a vise grip.

She'd been expecting this at some point, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. In six years, she'd become remarkably good at managing _not_ to think about Baltor, but every so often, something would pull at the edges of her memory. A woman's long burgundy skirt; a deep, rich chuckle floating on the wind; the flash of gold from a piece of jewelry that caught the sun in just the right way to make her chest ache. He was a painful scar on her heart that never seemed to heal, despite all her best efforts to make her peace with the issue.

Haylee looked like him a bit – the reddish-blond curls framing her face certainly were a far cry from Isabella's own almost-white-blond locks – but at least her eyes were blue. She'd spent almost the entire nine months dreading the possibility that her daughter would have the eyes that still haunted her worst nightmares.

Those same blue eyes were staring expectantly at her, waiting for a story that she wasn't sure she had the strength to tell. Isabella reached out and took Haylee's free hand. "Sweetie, your daddy… is not a very good man." _That's an understatement_, she thought wryly, although she wasn't sure how much she could judge, considering her own not-so-flawless record. "He represented a part of my life that I'm very glad to have put behind me, and even if I knew where he was, I wouldn't want to see him again." _I'm not even sure he's still alive_, she added in her mind, but didn't risk saying out loud. If Haylee ever wanted to go looking for him when she was older, then that would be her business, but while she was still young, Isabella wanted to shield her as much as possible.

Haylee's bottom lip quivered. "But… if you don't like him, then… did you not want me?"

Her throat tightened, and involuntarily, so did her grip on Haylee's hand. "No no no, sweetie, it's not like that, I promise. The only thing that man ever did right by me was when he helped make you. You are the best thing in my life, and I wouldn't change any of my relationship with your daddy, because he gave me you." Tears were stinging at the corners of her eyes, and she tried to force them back. "You are worth everything to me, Haylee."

"Don't cry, Mommy." Before she could realize what was happening, Haylee had scrambled onto her lap, melting ice cream and all, and was dabbing away her tears with a chocolate-stained napkin. "I'm sorry I made you sad."

She forced a weak smile. "I'm not sad, sweetie."

"Mommy, you taught me that lying is a bad thing, so don't lie to me." The sight of her daughter's stubborn determination – and total unawareness of the ice cream threatening to fall all over both of them – made her smile for real.

"Okay, baby girl," she said softly. "You're going to make a big mess of that ice cream soon if you don't pay attention." That, of course, drew Haylee's attention right away from her crying mother and back to her sugary treat.

Isabella took a few shaky deep breaths, blinking her eyes furiously until the tightness in her throat had gone away. _All things considered, that went surprisingly well_, she thought.

She stole a glance back at Haylee, her eyes lit up in delight as she polished off what remained of her ice cream. This precious creature on her lap _was_ worth everything, and there was no end to the lengths she would go to protect her innocence.

_My daughter is not going to be like her sad excuses for parents. If it's the last thing I do, I will make sure she does not turn out like me._

* * *

"Where are you going, _freak_?"

Haylee DiGiacomo kept her head down and her eyes on the rocky mountain path in front of her. Most days, if she refused to react to their taunts, they would eventually give up and move on to doing something else.

Today, though, was not one of her lucky days.

"Hey, what's your hurry?" With her perfect blond curls and spotless pink dress, Elisabetta Bellafonte looked like an angel fallen from heaven, but Haylee knew better. Behind that pretty façade lay something evil and rotten, something that delighted in tormenting those she deemed 'beneath' her. "Need to take _Mommy_ to the doctor?"

Haylee's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists with her nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood. Oh how she wished she could turn Elisabetta into a life-size popsicle when she said things like that. But from the day her mother first started teaching her about magic, she'd made one thing very clear: _"You are never to use your powers on the humans. They give you an unfair advantage, and it's not right. We are the better people, and so we must learn to fight our battles _without_ the use of magic."_ And if there was one thing Haylee never wanted to do, it was disappoint her mother. So she'd grit her teeth and force her magic down, even when every cell in her body was screaming at her to give them a taste of their own medicine.

That didn't mean she had to just silently take whatever abuse Elisabetta and her cronies decided to dish out, though, by any means. "Don't talk to me about her," she spat, pushing past the blond girl and heading further up the hill. The tiny sharp rocks littering the path were painful against the thin leather of her old shoes, but at least she wasn't freezing in her plain blue wool dress, worn from its years of washing and wear. As an ice magic user, she hardly ever felt the cold – which came in handy during the long mountain winters, when they could hardly afford firewood – but of course pretenses must be kept up to keep anyone from getting too suspicious.

"And why not?" For someone so delicate-looking, Elisabetta was unnaturally fast; she loomed in front of Haylee again, like some great monstrous presence. "She's crazy, you know. That's what everyone says. And you're a _freak_ just like her."

"Watch your mouth," she growled darkly, shouldering her book bag and climbing higher on the path.

"Ooh, I'm _so_ scared. What're you gonna do – go home and make a little voodoo doll of me?"

A sudden gust of wind swirled up snow on the ground like a blizzard, and Haylee looked down to see her palms open and flared, a telltale tingling in her fingertips. Biting her tongue, she quickly squeezed them shut again and hurried past, hoping that Elisabetta would decide to just give up and go home already.

Those rumors really were ridiculous. None of the stupid girls in town had any idea how true they were when they called the DiGiacomo women 'witches', which made it sting all the same. And while making fun of her was one thing, Haylee would not stand for them insulting her mother.

"Running away, are we? I always knew you were weak." Elisabetta's lips curled into a cruel smirk, and Haylee bit her tongue. "What, no comeback? Usually you have a little more fight in you. This is almost boring."

"Then _go away_." The path opened up onto a large clearing surrounded by a few trees; a lake stretched out in front of them, silent and frozen. Haylee just focused on putting one foot in front of the other, counting the steps until she would be safely inside her house. _It's not too much further now…_

"Come on, Haylee. Are you really going to just stand there?" Caught off guard, she stumbled forward as Elisabetta gave her a hard shove in the back, barely managing to catch her balance before she would've smacked her face against the frozen surface of the lake. "I thought you were tougher than that. I thought you could fight back."

Something inside of her snapped. "If you really thought that, you wouldn't be picking on me." Haylee grit her teeth and got to her feet, not fighting to conceal the rage burning in her eyes. "You know what you are, Elisabetta? A spineless little coward, who has to make other people feel bad to feel better about herself."

"Why you little…" The blond charged forward, yelping as her feet slipped on the icy ground, sending her tumbling onto the ice and landing on her back. She lay still for a moment, her strangled breaths echoing in the silence.

And then another sharp sound filled the air. Slow at first, then faster.

The cracking sound of ice breaking.

"Oh my God," Haylee breathed, as the ice gave way under Elisabetta's body. A look of surprise flashed across the other girl's face right before she plunged into the dark gray water. Instinctively, Haylee stepped backwards, putting distance between herself and the rapidly expanding hole, but her shoes skidded on a patch of ice and she landed on her butt, Elisabetta's fingers closing around her ankle.

"No! Let go of me!" she screamed, clawing at the ice beneath her, fingers leaving a jagged trail in the snow as she struggled against the other girl's vise-like grip. The freezing water was getting closer. In seconds she was going to pull her down with her, and they were both going to die.

Fear honed her senses, and suddenly the world came into sharp focus. Working out of instinct, she reached down to her ankle and grabbed Elisabetta's hand, fingers digging into her ashen skin. The other girl's face twisted in fear and pain.

"Help!" Elisabetta croaked, thrashing in the water. "Please, help me! I can't swim!"

Haylee struggled to keep her grip, but the water had made their fingers slippery. A bluish-gray tint was creeping into Elisabetta's skin. There was no way someone could survive for much longer in that icy lake, but she wasn't sure that she was strong enough to pull her to safety.

_Why _should_ you pull her to safety?_ whispered a dark voice in the back of Haylee's mind, taking root like a poisonous flower._ It would be so easy to just let her go… No one would ever know the truth. _And oh so very convincing…

_What has this bitch ever done for me? She deserves this. She deserves to die._

"Please." Elisabetta's voice was a mere whimper.

_Little too late for that now._

"The great Elisabetta Bellafonte, begging _me_." Haylee's eyes were cold, even as she smiled cruelly. "That's a sound I never thought I'd hear."

The blond's eyes went wide as Haylee slowly and deliberately released her grip on her arm. Elisabetta's arms flailed wildly in a last-ditch bid for freedom, and Haylee laughed coldly, placing a hand on her soaking wet head and pushing with all her strength.

She struggled for a moment. Just for a moment. But before long she slipped silently underneath the ice. Her eyes – dark, unblinking – stared up at Haylee from under the glassy surface, and then she was gone. Vanished.

As if she had never existed.

A thin film of new ice was starting to form over the hole. In seconds the frozen surface was good as new, like nothing had ever happened. More than a little stunned, Haylee staggered to her feet; the odd, dark voice that had been egging her on had vanished, leaving a strange numb feeling in her head. Her entire body felt numb, in fact, chilled from the inside out… except for a very familiar tingling in her fingertips that had nothing to do with the cold.

_Was that… me?_

"Oh God," she exclaimed, as the full force of what had just happened hit her. Collapsing to the ground, she turned and retched onto the snow. Her body ached and her eyes stung, and still she heaved, throwing up the bile and acid that seemed to be eating away at her core.

_What did I just do?_

Haylee closed her eyes, head spinning like a top without gravity. When at last the fits of vomiting ceased, she felt like a limp dishrag, all the spirit wrung out of her.

_I have to get home… Mom can fix this. She can fix anything. She'll be upset, and it would be big magic, but surely there must be a way to put this right._

Unsteady on her feet, Haylee ran the rest of the way up the path to their dilapidated little house. "Mom!" she called, pushing open the broken front door with no regard to the creaking hinges. "Where are you?"

A thin moan met her ears, and her blood ran cold. All thoughts of what had happened at the lake left her head as she dropped to her knees at her mother's side, hands gripping the older woman's tiny shoulders, trying to keep her steady as she rocked back and forth. "Mom, look at me," she demanded, forcing Isabella's head up. She fought back a shudder at the sight of her lifeless blue eyes and made herself stare into them, keeping her voice calm and directing her words to the woman she knew lay behind them. "Stay with me, Mom. Just focus on my voice and stay with me."

There was no response, but after a long moment, Isabella's body stilled, and Haylee breathed a sigh of relief.

First starting when she was about seven, the 'incidents' grew more frequent every year. They came on suddenly and with little to no warning, and could last anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. Every time she left the house, Haylee worried what state she'd find her mother in when she came back; her voice seemed to be the only thing that ever occasionally worked to calm her down.

Because they were so unpredictable, the incidents kept Isabella mostly confined to the house. Stupid people with nothing better to do gossiped and speculated about what kind of strange illness could keep Isabella DiGiacomo locked away from the world's eyes, and in absence of more details, created all sorts of fantastical stories that made Haylee's blood boil. It was _so hard_ to keep from unleashing snowstorms of Ice Age proportions when she thought of her poor, sweet mother, who still did the best she could for her despite being terribly crippled by some sort of undiagnosable virus. _If they knew the truth about what's wrong with her, they wouldn't be so heartless…_

"Haylee?" The light had returned to Isabella's eyes, making her resemble the woman Haylee had known and loved all her life again. "Sweetie, did I have another…"

"Yes," she said simply, pulling Isabella's head onto her shoulder and absently running her fingers through her mother's hair, like she was the mom and Isabella the little girl. In many ways, that was almost the way things were; certainly, Haylee had been forced to grow up a lot faster than most kids her age.

Isabella's face twisted. "I'm sorry, honey. You know I hate for you to see me like that."

"Don't apologize, Mom," she insisted. "It's not your fault; you can't control it. And I love you regardless, you know that."

"You're so grown up, Haylee. I wish it wasn't like this. I wish you got to just enjoy being thirteen while you can." Haylee opened her mouth, but sighed and said nothing as Isabella closed her eyes. They sat in silence for a moment, then…

"My goodness! Haylee, your skirt's all wet!" She sat up abruptly, rubbing it between two fingers. "What happened?"

Haylee swallowed hard; she could almost feel the icy lake water on her skin, Elisabetta's fingers gripping her ankle. The blond's arms flailing, gasping for air, pleading with Haylee to save her life; unseeing dark eyes staring accusatorily up at her through the film of ice, before disappearing forever into that black water…

Then she remembered all the times Elisabetta had insulted her, called her a freak or a witch, poked fun at poor, debilitated Isabella because it entertained her. _That girl was a waste of space_, whispered the little voice_. It's better for the world that she's gone._

"Oh, it's nothing. I just fell in a puddle on the way home."

* * *

"This place is a dump."

Haylee rolled her eyes. "I missed you too, Aunt Stormy."

"I mean it," the older woman continued unapologetically, running a finger along the rough-hewn wood table and grimacing at the dirt on her long red-painted fake nail. "Would it kill you to do a cleaning spell or two?" Savannah DiGiacamo – or Stormy, as she'd adapted in her youth and still preferred to be called – was on the shorter side, with perpetually frizzy black hair that no amount of magic could tame. Though her figure was far from what it used to be, she insisted on wearing clothes made for a younger generation, and today was no exception, as she donned a short red sleeveless dress over black leggings.

"Give the kid a break, S," Darcy DiGiacamo retorted, leaning against the far wall as she fiddled with a cigarette and a lighter. She was taller and slimmer than her younger sister – and therefore didn't look ridiculous in a black halter top and purple skinny jeans – with waist-length brown hair streaked with blond. Darcy had always been Haylee's favorite of her two aunts, although it was hard to be worse-tempered than Stormy (the name had seemed ridiculous to Haylee – who'd grown up on Earth names like Sarah and Julie – at first, but over time she'd grown to realize how perfectly it suited her aunt). "Looking after Isa's a full-time job in and of itself, and she goes to mortal school too."

A low growl ripped from Haylee's throat, and before she could stop herself, a tiny flame was leaping from her fingertip. It shot across the room towards Darcy, who effortlessly raised her cigarette, catching the tip to the flame, and then stuck it in her mouth. "Hey, thanks for the light," she commented offhandedly, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Stormy shuddered. "It still freaks me out that she can do that."

"Hello? _She_ is right here." Haylee sighed. Her aunts were catty, rude, manipulative, ornery, and stubborn as mules, but they were family, and Haylee loved them (although she was careful to never let such a statement pass her lips in front of them). Certainly they were better adult conversation than her mother, whose condition had only worsened over the years. Though she'd snapped at Darcy for saying so, taking care of Isabella _was_ practically a full-time job these days.

"She's Baltor's daughter," Darcy said to her sister, ignoring Haylee completely. "I'd have been surprised if she _didn't_ have some of that in her."

Oddly enough, it had been Aunt Darcy's smoking habit that let the cat out of the bag. Haylee had been maybe fourteen when, on her way into town to pick up something nice for dinner, she'd stumbled upon her aunt behind the house, blowing smoke rings with the practiced ease of a longtime smoker. She was still young enough that her aunts intimidated the crap out of her, but also starting to come into her own confidence-wise, and the combination pushed her to say, "You know, those things'll kill you."

If her aunt was surprised to see her there, she didn't show it. "That's what he used to say." She took another drag, looking at Haylee like she wasn't quite seeing her – a look she was used to from Isabella. "You look like him, you know."

"Who?"

"Your father."

"You knew my father?" young Haylee had asked, eyes wide. And when Aunt Darcy nodded, that had sealed her fate.

Now, even all those years later, Haylee still tensed when either of them said his name, an instinctive reaction she'd never fully been able to break herself of. Sometimes she found herself wishing she could go back in time and slap her fourteen-year-old self for being so damn curious. Her father was a veritable Pandora's box, something far better left alone than not.

"Guess who's starting at Alfea now?" Stormy's voice cut through Haylee's thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Her aunt had a mischievous gleam in her eye, and when she finally processed the question her stomach churned.

Like all girls brought up by a single mom, she'd spent years imagining what kind of a man her father might have been, and the reasons why he'd walked out of her life. But not even in her worst and wildest fantasies did he have another family.

Baltor (she couldn't bring herself to refer to him as her father most of the time) was a convicted criminal who'd tried to enslave the entire magical dimension. Her mom and aunts had helped him, then ditched him when, as Aunt Stormy so eloquently put it, 'he got all mopey and then turned into this really ugly demon beast thing.'

But that wasn't what bothered Haylee so much, though. It was the part where he turned around and married the Queen of Sparx – the very realm he'd been sentenced to eternity in the Omega Dimension for destroying – that made her blood boil and her jaw clench. (Supposedly he was now claiming to be 'reformed', although Haylee didn't buy that for a second, even if the rest of the magical dimension apparently did. The poor girl-queen must've been truly too dumb to live.) And then had a beautiful, _privileged_ little daughter with her – a girl who would now be fourteen years old and starting her first year at Alfea, one of the best schools of magic in the dimension. While Haylee had been educated in a one-room schoolhouse with a bunch of dumb idiot _humans_ who thought magic was genies and fairy godmothers.

"Please," she said in as even a tone as she could muster through clenched teeth, "don't talk to me about _her_."

But Stormy's eyes gleamed wickedly, like a cat eyeing a particularly tasty-looking bird. "Fifty bucks says she'll be as clueless as her mother was when she first showed up in Magix. Remember that, Darcy? I haven't had that much fun in _ages_." Haylee's hands clenched into fists, fingertips prickling with magic. There was insensitive, and then there was Aunt Stormy, who was either the most oblivious person in the world or actually _enjoyed_ making her niece uncomfortable. "Ooh, we should totally go over there and rough her up a bit," she continued, an almost child-like enthusiasm creeping into her voice. "She's probably such easy prey, it'd be pathetic. Practically an act of charity, really, giving her some street–"

"I said _shut up_!" A strange sort of warmth flooded Haylee's arms, and it wasn't until she heard her aunts gasp that she looked down and realized that she was on fire. Starting at her fingertips, the flames grew in size until they were licking dangerously at her forearms, but she didn't feel a thing – except for the chest-tightening sense of _wrongness_.

Haylee was an ice magic user, like her mother had been before she got sick. It was something that was as much a part of her as her height or hair color, and yet somehow, in the last few years, she'd discovered a latent talent for producing fire. While other girls might have given their left arm to be able to do what she could, Haylee hated the fire magic. All it did was serve as a constant, omniprescent reminder of the man who'd given her life and then disappeared before she'd even drawn her first breath.

To do this – use two radically different power sources, and opposing elements at that – was virtually unheard of. Aunt Darcy had theorized that it was likely only possible in her case because Baltor had been created from a dark ember of the Dragon Fire, the most powerful fire magic (arguably _the_ most powerful magic) in the universe. Though her mother's ice magic was dominant, there was just enough of the Dragon Fire in her to allow it to express itself.

The Queen of Sparx also wielded Dragon Fire energy, which was yet another reason for Haylee to detest her strange ability. Fire was unpredictable and uncontrollable, dangerous and utterly destructive if untamed. Nothing good could come of its devastating wrath. Haylee far preferred her ice; cold, clean, and emotionally detached, just like she strived to be towards her 'other' family.

Unfortunately, more often than not it was thinking about them that caused the flames to flare up. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused intently, seeking out the source of the burning energy and working to shut it down. She'd staunchly refused the idea of trying to learn how to use fire magic, but the one thing she did know was how to control an outburst like this. (They did live in a wooden house, after all.)

The slight tickling warmth faded, but when she opened her eyes again, her aunts were still gaping at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she snapped. "You've known I can do that for years! Stop acting like I'm some kind of circus freak sideshow act!" A part of her knew this anger was misdirected, that her aunts hadn't done anything to warrant this kind of lashing out, but the real targets of her rage were millions of miles away, probably unaware of her very existence.

Because when it came down to it, _that_ was what spurred Haylee's anger at Baltor the most. That he could sleep with her mother, essentially condemning poor Isabella to a life of isolation and illness whether he knew it or not, and then just walk away without any regard for her well-being. He'd never once made an attempt to find her, never once considered the possibility that there had been repercussions for his actions, and to add salt to the wound, he'd gone on to marry someone else and have a legitimate daughter.

The fact that he didn't know about her didn't make his abandonment better, not by a long shot. Fiery rage burned through her veins whenever she thought about the Queen of Sparx and her perfect little daughter, and what she wouldn't give to be like them; unburdened by this knowledge that felt like a raw wound on her chest, constantly being reopened, never allowed to heal.

Sighing, Haylee closed her eyes and tipped her head back, leaning against the wall. After a moment, she was aware of footsteps coming closer to her, and then the scent of vanilla perfume mixed with cigarettes – Aunt Darcy. She opened her eyes. "I know it hurts, but you're not the only one suffering," the older woman said, in what was as close to a sympathetic tone as her aunt ever got. She took another drag of her cigarette before adding, "And really, you're not missing out on anything not knowing Baltor. Guy's a total asshole, _and_ a drama queen. Come on, S, tell Haylee I'm right." She gestured with her cigarette.

"Darcy's right," Aunt Stormy echoed, in one of her rare moments of not-quite-so-horrible attitude. "Alyssa might have a father but she doesn't have a mother. We took care of that years ago, remember?" There was a glint in her aunt's eyes, as she recalled what was clearly a favored memory.

Almost subconsciously, Haylee reached down to the inside of her left wrist, one finger tracing along the words written there in dark blue ink – the phrase "what goes around comes around," spiraling in on itself. (She hadn't even needed to use magic to compulse the tattoo guy into believing she was eighteen, just a little makeup and some flirting.) At the time, it was to remind herself that the Queen of Sparx had gotten her due, her own secret way of paying homage to her aunts' courage and fierce loyalty. But lately, even that wasn't enough to quell her frustration. The Queen of Sparx might be out of the picture, but Alyssa – her loathed half-sister – was still leading a pretty charmed life in comparison to Haylee's own. And it just wasn't fair.

Aunt Stormy's words from earlier floated back, about going to Alfea and teaching Alyssa a lesson. "I could do it, you know," she said, more to herself than anything. "Go to Magix, make her pay. It'd be easy." A small smile crept into her lips. "It'd be _fun_."

Her aunts exchanged a look that made the pit of Haylee's stomach drop. Surprisingly, it was Aunt Stormy who finally spoke. "You've been talking about revenge for years, kid, but you're still here."

"Who's going to take care of her? You?" Haylee's response was immediate and instinctive, but a second later she realized she'd just proved their point.

They were right, of course, though – Isabella was what was keeping Haylee in Italy. No matter how fiercely she raged against Alyssa, she could never leave her poor mother to fend for herself. Not to mention, Isabella would _never_ condone something like that, not after the lengths she'd gone to to remove herself from the magical dimension and escape her past.

But the anger and frustration simmering inside of her was starting to become too big to simply be ignored. All the years of knowing and doing nothing were taking their toll on her. She was restless, sick of being stuck in this backwards place, anxious to get out into the rest of the world. And yet as long as Isabella lived, there would always be something tethering her to Nascosto.

A slight weight rested on her shoulder, and it took her a minute to realize it was Aunt Darcy's hand (the one not holding her cigarette, of course). "No one's saying it's a bad thing, that you're so devoted to her. Hell, with the way you've handled this, sometimes I think you've got more strength than either of us – certainly more than we ever had at your age. But you're better than this, Haylee. I think Isa went to the extreme, but she had the right idea, getting you out of the magic dimension." She exhaled a cloud of smoke. "It's not too late for you yet. You don't have to be like us." Haylee bit her tongue, absentmindedly tracing her tattoo again. _What goes around comes around_.

_It's not enough,_ she thought to herself. _It's just not enough._

* * *

_You can do this. Just walk out that door. It's easy – you've done it a thousand times. What's so different about this time? Nothing, that's what. Just a few more steps now, you're almost there, doing so good, don't stop now…_

"Haylee?"

_Shit_.

Haylee froze, hand hovering inches over the doorknob, as Isabella's voice floated down the hall, along with the sound of footsteps on the wide plank floors. "Haylee, darling, if you're going to the market, could you pick up some more strawberries? They were so good…" Her voice trailed off as she paused in the doorway, her eyes going wide with shock. "Haylee, what on God's earth are you wearing?"  
The undeniable hurt tone in her voice hit Haylee like a slap of cold water. Her instinct was, of course, to put Isabella's needs over everything else, but she fought the growing urge to turn around and go change her clothes, forget this whole idea. Enough was enough already. She had to assert her right to a _life_ beyond just taking care of her ailing mother.

(And if there were ulterior motives to where exactly she was going? Well, that was really no one else's business but her own.)

Haylee held her head high, blue irises meeting blue; cool, calm, and collected. "What girls in this _century_ wear," she said, allowing a bit of disgust to filter into her voice. "Maybe you like this farm girl life, but it certainly isn't for me." She didn't say a word about the awkwardness of the new clothes compared to the dresses she was used to, how her legs felt almost uncomfortably bare in pants that hugged them tightly instead of a loose skirt. _I'll get used to them soon enough._

Isabella's throat contracted, the movement clearly visible against the stark whiteness of her skin. The illness had started to claim more than just her mind, leaching the color out of her already pale skin and hair, the strength from her bones. Right now, she looked so fragile that a strong gust of wind could just blow her away. "I… I don't understand, sweetheart," she said, in a voice so soft Haylee had to strain to hear it. "I always thought you were happy here."

"Well, I'm not." The forceful edge to her voice made Isabella recoil, and Haylee's heart clenched. She'd desperately wanted to avoid a scene like this, because there was only one way it could end: with her mother's heart breaking into a thousand pieces. But she had to do this now, before she lost her nerve. And the harder she pushed, the less likely Isabella was to ask her the kind of questions she couldn't answer. "I'm sorry if I deceived you into thinking that, but it's not the truth. I want more from my life than this. I'm almost twenty years old, and all I've ever done is play nursemaid."

Isabella flinched, and Haylee's chest ached. An extended period of lucidity was so rare these days; why was she wasting it yelling at poor Isabella? Maybe she should just forget about this whole thing. Nascosto wasn't so horrible, was it…

_No. Stop thinking like that,_ she mentally berated herself. _You knew this wasn't going to be easy. But someone has to give that little bitch what she deserves._ She traced her tattoo again, the familiar phrase giving her a jolt of strength and confidence. "I'm leaving," she said, shouldering her backpack, which contained nothing more than a few spare changes of clothes from Montemonaco, the nearest modern town. "And you can't stop me."

She made it two more steps before Isabella called, "Where are you going to go?"

Haylee tensed, biting her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood. "Magix," she said finally, the recommendation letter from one of Aunt Darcy's old acquaintances burning a hole in her bag. She could almost never lie to her mother, even when she knew the truth would just do more harm than good.

Isabella reacted exactly as she'd expected, shrinking back against the doorway. "Honey… please don't tell me you're doing what I think you are." Her silence was all the confirmation the older woman needed.

A long, pitiful wail ripped from Isabella's chest; the sound of a dying animal. "No, no, no, don't do this. You can't do this, please, don't leave me Haylee. You're all I have left, I can't lose you too…" There was a darker, unstable edge to her ramblings reminiscent of the incidents, as her coherency rapidly ebbed. The words dissolved into sobs as she collapsed to her knees in the doorway, burying her face in her lap.

More than anything, Haylee wanted to rush over to her mother and hold her in her arms, smooth her hair and whisper calming words in her ear until the illness released its grip on her mind. But she remained rooted in place, caught between two equally powerful forces pulling her in different directions.

_This was never supposed to go like this. _She kept repeating the words over and over in her mind, as if it would somehow change anything. _Why can't you see that this is all for you?_

"I'm sorry," she said finally, barely audible over Isabella's cries. "But I have to do this. And some day, you'll understand." _I hope._

Slowly but surely, Haylee put one foot in front of the other, the path taking her down the hill and away from the only life she'd ever known with every step. Her feet seemed to weigh a thousand pounds but she kept going, Isabella's sobs growing fainter in the distance, her heart feeling like it would break in two.

* * *

"You know, I had my doubts about you at first, when you showed up on our doorstep out of the blue, but I can now happily admit that I was wrong." Headmistress Griffin beamed. "You've more than proven your worth here. If you were a student, I have no doubt you'd be one of my best."

Haylee shifted awkwardly in her chair. "I'm… flattered, Headmistress," she said finally. "Cloud Tower is a wonderful school, and I would have been honored to study here." She bit back the statement on the tip of her tongue: _I _should_ have been a student here, if it weren't for my mom going crazy._ The story she'd crafted for her past had elements of truth – the isolation from other magical beings, the lack of formal training – but for obvious reasons, she'd glossed over the details of her parentage. She doubted Headmistress Griffin would still be so kind to her if she knew that her new protégée was the daughter of one of her most infamous alumni and the man who'd taken over her school twenty years ago.

"Well, you're welcome to stay on as long as you'd like. If you're still here in a year or so, I think I could even offer you a real job – paying some real money." The headmistress winked. "Just think about it," she added, noting Haylee's obvious discomfort.

"Th-thank you, Headmistress." She rose to her feet, pushing in the high-backed chair that sat in front of the headmistress's desk. "I should go…" she offered weakly, already halfway out the door.

"Don't let me keep you if you have a class." When she looked back, the older woman's attention was already on something else, and she shut the door behind her with a sigh of relief.

That she'd attracted so much of the headmistress's attention was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it had been a small miracle that she'd even gotten past the front gates, so any staff positively inclined towards her could only be a good thing. But the more time she spent in Griffin's company, the more likely the sharp older woman was to realize there were things Haylee wasn't telling her about who she was. And while Cloud Tower specialized in the dark arts, there were some lines even they wouldn't cross – and her parents decidedly had.

Haylee paused outside the classroom, hearing the sound of Professor Zarathustra's voice mid-lecture, and eased open the door carefully, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. Thankfully, in such a giant lecture hall, all the students were too busy focusing on their teacher to pay any mind to the wayward TA slinking in the back.

TA – as in teacher's assistant. Certainly not what Haylee had imagined herself doing when she came to Magix, but it gave her room and board in the castle; there was no way she had the money to rent an apartment in downtown Magix for as long as she'd need to be here. And besides just being a place to sleep and eat, Cloud Tower provided the opportunity for Haylee to expand upon her vastly lacking magical education.

But all the perks of CT aside, Haylee was starting to get very frustrated. So far all she'd done since getting to Magix was put blue streaks in her hair (she'd always wanted to do that, but while sneaking a tattoo past Isabella was one thing, dyed hair wouldn't have been so easy to hide) and grade stacks of stupid essays on spell theory. It was an interesting life, no doubt – much better than the one she'd run away from – but damn it, this wasn't what she'd come here to do. The new school year was nearly a month underway, and the only time she'd even seen her hated half-sister was by accident.

Just thinking about their run-in downtown made Haylee's blood boil, fingers curling tightly around the pen she was holding until her nails were digging into her palms. Alyssa was every bit as innocent and naïve as she'd pictured; every bit as insufferable, with those wide eyes and perky smile and open, trusting nature. _Oh, how I wish I could've smacked that stupid smile right off her face_.

But as much as it pained her to wait, she had to. She couldn't just show up at Alfea and kick the crap out of the girl, no matter how much she wanted to. She might only get one shot at this, and so it had to be perfect.

And so, she kept thinking, kept plotting, kept strategizing. Kept waiting.

And hoped she wouldn't die of anxiety in the meantime.

The sound of Professor Zarathustra's voice was replaced by a cacophony of talking, laughing, and books slamming shut; the sounds of the end of class. Haylee kept her head down, focusing on the tests she had to grade, as the younger girls filed out all around her.

"I'm going to lunch, Haylee," the professor called from down at her podium. Haylee nodded an acknowledgement.

The silence was comforting, she thought, as she finished grading the stack of papers. One thing about living in the Cloud Tower castle was that she was so rarely alone. Growing up in Nascosto – where the nearest neighbors were a long walk down a steep hill – the constant company of other people was not something she was used to.

High heels clicking against the floor startled Haylee out of her thoughts, and she looked down to see two girls walking into the classroom. "Remind me why we're here again, S?" came a high, sharp-edged voice. It belonged to a tall, slim girl with long white-blond hair spilling down her shoulders in spiral curls, wearing gray skinny jeans, a sleeveless black lace top, and fingerless black gloves. She leaned against one of the long tables that served as communal desks, looking beyond bored.

Her friend, in a dark purple romper cinched at the waist with a thin black belt, responded, "Because I can't find my opal ring." She wiggled fingers laden down with jeweled rings in her friend's face, stacks of equally flashy bracelets jingling as they slid down her wrists. This girl was just as tall as the other but had more of a curvy hourglass figure, as opposed to her friend's straight-up-and-down frame. Her hair was dark brown and reached past her butt, streaked with golden highlights that matched her deeply tanned skin. "Besides, did you _really_ want to stick around the caf and listen to Alexandra go on about her summer vacation for the millionth time?" She mimed gagging, and the girl in the gray jeans cracked up.

"You're right. _Anything_'s better than that." She lifted a hand and started examining her nails.

"Well don't just stand there, Iz!" snapped the girl in the purple. "Help me look!"

"I don't understand why one stupid ring means so much," her friend complained, dutifully getting down on the floor and searching for the elusive ring.

"It was a present from Zane. If he thinks I lost it, he's going to _freak_."

She snorted. "Like you won't be through with him in a week anyways."

Curiously, Haylee studied their interaction from her out-of-the-way spot high in the back of the room. Their names escaped her, but she knew they were seniors, two of the most accomplished students in their year – and ergo, the entire school. Which was why they could get away with sitting in the back of the room and gossiping instead of paying attention in class half the time. They were the kind of girls who ruled the school with an iron fist and stomped on anyone who dared to get in their way, laughing as they did.

In a parallel universe, she probably would have been one of them.

Pushing the thought away, Haylee picked up her stuff and prepared to leave as inconspicuously as she'd arrived, not wanting them to notice her. A few steps out, her foot came down on something hard, and she swallowed a yelp, lifting her foot to see a gold ring with a milky-white stone that reflected flickers of rainbow-colored light like flames_._

_An opal_.

Something clicked in the back of her mind, and before she really knew what she was doing, Haylee scooped up the ring and held it overhead. "You looking for something?" she called down to the bottom of the lecture hall.

The two girls looked up, obviously startled to see another person. "Who are you?" asked the girl in the gray jeans suspiciously, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at Haylee.

She took her time walking slowly and deliberately down the steps, determined to not to lose her self-confidence in front of these girls. She was their elder, after all, if only by a few years. "I think this is yours," she said coolly, dropping the ring into the palm of the girl in purple.

"My ring!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she immediately stuck it back onto her finger. "Thank you." As if really noticing Haylee for the first time, she looked up. Her eyes were a stunning violet color, lids spackled with sparkly eye shadow that drew even more attention to them. "You look familiar, but I'm sorry, I just don't know why. Are you in my Advanced Hexes class?"

"No, I know who she is, S." The girl with the white-blond curls elbowed her friend, who winced, pulling her arm into her chest and rubbing it dramatically. Paying no mind to her friend's reaction, she stared Haylee down with piercing storm-gray eyes. "You're that weird TA who lived on Earth."

Haylee bristled. "Not by choice, I can assure you."

"Ignore her; she gets bitchy when she hasn't eaten," said the girl with the missing ring. She held out a hand to shake. "I'm Sonya and she's Izzy." She gestured over her shoulder to her friend in gray, who gave a thin smile. "And your name is…?"

"Haylee." She took Sonya's hand, watching how Izzy tensed as she did.

"What's your power source, Earth girl?" Izzy leaned back against a table again, arching her back slightly, like she didn't expect to be very impressed. This was a girl who was used to humiliating and demeaning anyone she took even the slightest disliking to, and for whatever reason she'd placed Haylee in that category after only knowing her a few minutes.

Well, that was going to change, she decided. Focusing intently, she made snow fall from above her head, one clenched fist lighting up with blue-white magic. Izzy sniffed. "Ice user. Dime a dozen around he… whoa."

Beads of sweat dotted Haylee's forehead, but she managed to keep her grip on the flames shooting up her other arm. This was the first time she'd ever tried summoning them at will, and it was taking every ounce of her strength to keep them under control. But it was more than worth it to wipe the smirk off of Izzy's face.

"How… how did you do that?" Sonya gaped, as she released the magic.

Haylee smiled smugly. "I'm just full of surprises, for an _Earth girl_."

Izzy's brief slip of composure was a thing of the past, and she snorted. "So you've got a cool parlor trick. That doesn't make you anything special," she sneered.

Something about her that nagged at the back of Haylee's mind, the same annoying little feeling she'd had since the two of them first walked in. She squinted, trying to figure out why she felt like she'd known this girl forever.

"What are you staring at?" Izzy snapped. And then it hit her. The voice, the mannerisms, the attitude… all pure Aunt Stormy.

Looking closely, Sonya had shades of Aunt Darcy as well. _Two of the most accomplished seniors in the school…_

And just like that, Haylee knew why she'd come down here.

"I have a proposition for you two," she started. _There's always strength in numbers, after all._ Sonya looked interested, but of course, Izzy just stared, as if waiting for a punch line. "It involves having some fun and causing some damage. To an Alfea fairy."

And just when she thought she'd never see Izzy smile…

* * *

Life, Haylee decided, had a very interesting sense of humor.

She'd left Nascosto to get away from being cooped up in a tiny house all day, and now where was she? In a tiny jail cell in Magix. _Yeah, a real step up_.

She sighed, tucking her knees up under her and leaning her head back against the wall. All the adults in her life had tried to warn her, but like a typical headstrong teenager, she hadn't listened. And now here she was, stuck in this hovel until she could be hauled out before the Magix Council, undoubtedly then sentenced to spending the rest of her life in exactly the same way, if not worse.

No one had come to visit her in the two months she'd been rotting away in the Magix Detention Center, but she hadn't expected anyone. There was almost no one left in the universe who cared about her anyways, and of the handful that did, none were capable of coming to Magix to see her. Her aunts might have gone through a rehabilitation program years ago, but they were still decidedly not welcome in Magix, and as for her mother…

Her heart ached when she thought of poor Isabella, fending for herself for the first time since she'd fallen ill. Haylee would have given anything to know that her mother was alright, that she would be alright without her daughter to take care of her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see her, standing in the doorway of their little wooden house – which seemed so much more charming and less dilapidated in her memory – smiling softly, surrounded by fresh green grass and leafy trees as far as the eye could see, the sky a clear, cloudless blue with a brightly shining sun…

It was funny; she couldn't have cared less about the natural beauty of Nascosto in the twenty years she'd lived there, yet now she found herself desperately missing it. There were a lot of things she missed about life 'on the outside', many things she'd only recently been introduced to – long hot showers, chocolate, music, cute boys…

But no matter how much she hated life in the detention center, she didn't regret a single one of the actions that had gotten her there. Alyssa's shock and horror when she'd dropped the bombshell; her broken body lying defenseless on the ground; the all-consuming grief and pain when that icicle had gone through her friend's heart, almost even better than if it had actually met its intended target… Sometimes the only thing that kept her sane in this miserable place was thinking about the moments of fear and terror she'd elicited in her wretched half-sister. _What goes around comes around_ – and Alyssa had finally gotten her due. That was worth more than anything.

Haylee felt a strange sort of tingling in the back of her mind, followed by the distinct sense that she was being watched. Curiously, she opened one eye and twisted her head over her shoulder, seeing nothing but plain white walls and empty gray-barred cells, as usual. Shrugging it off, she closed her eye again and tried to relax her mind enough to fall asleep. With nothing else to do, she spent a lot of time sleeping these days; at least in the world of her dreams, she wasn't trapped in a hellhole like this.

"I see this place hasn't changed a bit. Can't say I'm all that surprised."

At the sound of that voice – deep and rich and sarcastic, all rolled into one – Haylee snapped to attention, both eyes flying open and head whirling around. "Who's there?" she demanded, voice a little shaky from disuse. "Where are you?"

The owner of the mysterious voice chuckled. "So impatient." In what felt like the blink of an eye, a man materialized in the space in front of her cell bars, the air shimmering slightly around him. "You really should work on that, Haylee."

_How does he know my name?_ Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth – to scream for guards? What exactly she'd planned to do, she wasn't quite sure – but he cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't bother calling for security. No one else can see me but you. All the better for us to finally…" he hesitated "talk."

Haylee's eyes narrowed, as she gave her visitor a once-over. He had long reddish-blond hair about the same shade as her own, and an angularly handsome face that time had been kind to, with high cheekbones and a sharply defined jaw. His clothes looked like they'd fit right into a formal event back in Nascosto – which was to say, about two or three hundred years behind current fashion – with a long, high-collared burgundy jacket that gave him an air of dignity and superiority. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were the same shade as hated Alyssa's, but unlike the younger girl's, his were world-weary. This was a man who had seen the worst of the world and lived to tell the tale.

Haylee inhaled sharply.

For all she'd heard about him from her aunts, they'd never managed to procure a picture, and the history books were similarly photo-shy whenever his name came up. It was unnerving; she could see exactly where Alyssa had gotten certain features, but also… where she had.

She felt the heat of his gaze on her, those golden eyes feeling like they were burning her with their focus. "She was right," she heard him say softly to himself. There was a hint of something else in his tone – thoughtfulness? Sadness? Haylee wasn't sure. "The resemblance is striking."

Haylee suddenly realized that her mouth was still open, and quickly snapped it shut, trying to yank back up her mental walls. He had caught her off-guard, which was rare, but she was determined to treat him as she'd always imagined she would if ever given the chance. Nothing about this situation changed that in the slightest. "So you're Baltor." She sniffed, trying her best to look as if she couldn't care less. "I was expecting someone more… menacing."

"Sorry to disappoint," he said dryly, giving her a look like he could see right through her act. "Somehow I thought you'd be a little more grateful for the company." He leaned back against the bars of another cell across the hall. "It must get awfully lonely in here, all by yourself, with nothing to do but reflect on what you've done…"

She bristled when she caught the sarcastic, mocking tone to his voice; he knew she wasn't the slightest bit sorry. "Let me try again, then." Her veins prickled with heat. "How _magnanimous_ of you to grace me with your presence. I'm so _honored_ that someone of your status _deigned_ to visit a lowly orphan criminal like myself."

A low, almost darkly amused chuckle filled the room. "You're my daughter, all right."

Haylee froze up at the words. It was one thing to know in her mind that this man was her father, and another entirely to actually hear him call her his daughter. Especially when all she saw when she looked at him were those eyes – Alyssa's eyes. "At least my mother's not some perky bobblehead," she spat back when she finally regained her voice.

Strangely, he didn't instantly jump to defend the Queen of Sparx. "How is Icy these days, anyway?"

Anger burned through her veins, nearly blinding her in its intensity. "Her _name_ is Isabella. You fucked my mother and you didn't even know her real name?" He winced, and she felt an irrational surge of pride. He _should_ feel like an asshole, because that's exactly what he was.

High off the power rush, she continued, "And if you must know, she's sick. Has been for years, ever since she left the magical dimension. You know where I grew up? Earth, in a backwards little town that doesn't even have electricity. And why would she possibly seek refuge in a place like that? Because _you_ ruined her. You broke her heart, destroyed any chance of her being able to have a normal life, and then just left her high and dry with me and never looked back. You scarred her so completely that she all but renounced magic, and now it's eating her mind. Dark magic's nasty like that, you know, if you stop using it." Haylee's chest heaved from exertion, but she felt oddly light, like she was unloading physical baggage instead of just emotional. "So I hope your little redheaded tramp was worth it. Because you have no idea the destruction you left in your wake."

His eyes hardened at the 'redheaded tramp' comment (okay, maybe she'd taken it a little too far insulting the Queen of Sparx, but damn it felt good), but otherwise they remained strangely impassive. He said nothing.

To Haylee, the silence was like a sign: _Keep going, please_. So she did. "Why are you even here anyways? You got your second chance, your clean slate and white picket fence happy ending. You have a shiny, happy, perfect little daughter who's _not_ a criminal. You made your choice all those years ago, when you left my mother to rot like the trash you so clearly thought she was. You can't just show up here now and expect me to forget about all that."

She'd expected anger. Rage. An emotional explosion of epic proportions.

She'd expected him to fight back.

But he wasn't.

Eventually he sighed and straightened up, taking a few steps forward. Instinctively, she flattened herself against the windowless far wall, trying to put as much distance between them as possible – kind of hard to do in a space this small.

At last he finally spoke, in a voice that sounded nothing like his earlier authoritative-yet-sarcastic tone. "Well perhaps I've finally found someone who has a lower opinion of me than I do."

He was trying to endear himself to her, and damn him if it wasn't working. Despite all the horrible things she'd said to him – and meant every word – there was still a part of her, way deep down, that longed for a father. And now she had one, who was clearly doing his best to reach out to her, even if he was falling a little flat.

But she refused to give even an inch outwardly, regardless of the conflict brewing in her mind, and so she just stared coolly, saying nothing. He took a deep breath. "I had no idea that Ice– Isabella had gotten sick. I had no idea where she was when she left the dimension. She didn't want me to know, or she wouldn't have left the way she did." _You still could have tried_, she thought, even though she reluctantly had to concede his point. "If I had known, I would have done something…"

At that, her old anger flared up. "Done what? Set me up in the palace? Given me the bedroom down the hall from your _precious_ Alyssa?" She scoffed. "I survived without you in my life this long. I don't need your pity. I don't need anything from you."

"And now we're back on the defensive." It wasn't so much what he said as it was the way he said it that set Haylee's nerves on end. "Silly me for thinking we could actually get through a conversation like rational adults. I should have known it was too much to ask of a girl with such obvious anger issues."

Haylee sucked in a breath. "You don't know what you're talking about." Her hands were starting to tremble slightly, and she discreetly maneuvered so she was sitting on them in order to hide it. "You don't know anything about me. How could you? You've missed out on my entire life. Suddenly growing a conscience while I'm in prison doesn't give you the right to psychoanalyze me like you know me."

"You're right." Her eyebrows arched involuntarily. _Oh really? I am?_ "I don't know you. But I do understand you. Once upon a time, I was you – full of anger and resentment and pain, feeling like the world owed me something after it had taken so much away from me. But the combination is the worst mentality in the world. And I'm not going to lie to you; there isn't an easy way out of it. Although I suppose now you probably don't want out." He sighed. "That's where the tricky part is. There are so few people in this world who will make you want to change that. I suppose I'm lucky I found one." For a moment, he smiled softly, as if forgetting where he was – obviously thinking about the Queen of Sparx.

Haylee didn't lie to herself; it stung. She didn't harbor any delusions of reuniting her estranged parents to live happily ever after like a stupid movie, but she couldn't help feel affronted on Isabella's behalf at the thought of her father with another woman. Especially the Queen of Sparx, who, if her daughter was anything to go off of, was probably beautiful and charming and kind enough to make Haylee want to puke. She was probably the kind of woman who would've freaking _accepted_ her husband's bastard child with her worst enemy from high school – if said child hadn't tried to kill her own daughter, of course.

"You're right on one count, old man. I'm not some broken old toy that needs repairs. I don't think I can be fixed." _I don't need to be fixed_ was what she'd meant to say, but somehow it came out wrong, and her throat tightened dangerously. _No. That is just not going to happen. I am _not_ going to cry in front of him._

"At the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy, it's never too late to turn things around. Living proof right here." He cracked a grin, an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. She crossed her arms over her chest and didn't respond, not trusting herself not to cry if she opened her mouth.

He sighed and leaned against the bars. "Alyssa could probably tell you that I don't know very much about being a father. I think I'm getting better at it. The sad thing is that I probably can connect with you more than her. Anger, betrayal, revenge… I understand that. Normal teenage girl things? Not so much." He shook his head slightly, eyelids blinking closed and then opening again. "So I guess what I'm trying to say – what I came here to say – is that I'm sorry. For a long time, I used to think I'd never get the chance to have children of my own, and now it seems I've made mistakes in both cases." A part of her was idly curious as to how he thought he'd screwed up with Alyssa, but nowhere near curious enough to ask. "And you can choose to believe me or not, but if I could, I would do things differently for you." Her breath caught at the sincerity in his voice.

He was far from the dashing white knight she'd dreamed up as a little girl, but he wasn't the selfish bastard she'd spent her teenage years cursing either. He was… _trying_, and that was almost the worst thing he could have done. The selfish bastard she'd have screamed at, the white knight she could have dismissed for fallacy; but this was real. Unflattering, unfiltered, honesty.

For the first time, she was genuinely envious of Alyssa. If their circumstances had been reversed… she could have been very happy growing up with him as a father.

But the world doesn't run on what-ifs, only what-nexts. And what's next for her is a trial with the Magix Council and then most likely a lifetime spent in another cell like this one.

She looked up to meet his eyes, and in the space of a moment, it was like he could read her thoughts. Something flickered in his eyes like understanding.

What goes unsaid: If he wanted to, he could almost certainly pull some strings for her. But her pride would never let her accept a handout from the Queen of Sparx, not after everything she'd been through.

Maybe he did understand her.

"What's her name?" she asked, breaking the silence. "Alyssa's mother," she clarified. Somehow, that one bit of information had never come up when her aunts were going over their high school past, and for some reason Haylee can't quite explain, she suddenly has a desperate need to know it. To put a name to this faceless woman that's haunted her nightmares for years; to make her real.

The surprised look on his face deepened, but then a moment later that same soft smile took over. "Bloom," he said finally. "Her name is Bloom."

_Just the sort of prissy, girly name you'd expect from someone like that_. The nasty remark was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. If he could make an effort, then so could she. "Do you love her?"

"With all my heart and soul." His response was so instantaneous that it almost made Haylee feel bad for all the times she'd mocked the Queen of Sparx – _Bloom_ – for being stupid enough to believe a dark wizard criminal actually loved her. That couldn't be further from the truth, it seemed. "But I have the greatest respect for your mother. What she did, raising you by herself, would be challenging even under more ordinary circumstances. And your independence, your self-sufficiency, your overwhelming drive… those are things I can be very proud of."

Her throat felt impossibly tight, eyes stinging from the effort of holding back tears. "I think you should go now," she managed to say, in as even a tone as she could muster. "Please." The look on his face registered disappointment, but not surprise.

He didn't waste her time saying something like "See you again soon" or "I'll call you", which she appreciated. Instead, he just took a few steps backwards until he was standing in the middle of the hall. Focused those gold eyes on her again and said, "Goodbye, Haylee." Closed them and vanished.

The second he was gone, she threw herself down onto the bed and buried her face in her pillow, shoulders shaking with the effort of her silent sobs.

* * *

It really was a pretty necklace, she thought, twisting it back and forth in her hands.

Real gold, as far as she could tell, not the cheap crap that turns your skin green, but then she wouldn't have expected anything less. The pendant was surprisingly understated for something that used to belong to a princess, but considering whose possession it was originally, that actually made a lot of sense.

_But then why was _Alyssa_ the one to give it to me?_

If Baltor's visit had been unexpected, then Alyssa coming to see her was something she would have never predicted in a million years. And even more surprising was the fact that they'd almost managed to have a civilized conversation. _All the time in this dump's made you soft,_ she thought to herself scornfully.

But maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe the four months spent in prison had allowed her to let go of some of the anger she'd been carrying around like hot coals in her chest since she was fourteen. And maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing.

Rather than lingering too long on a topic she _so_ wasn't ready to seriously get into yet, Haylee instead turned her attention to the other thing her half-sister had left her; much more secretively than the necklace, which of course piqued her interest.

It was a little gold key, the size and design of which made her think it should be dangling from a charm bracelet, or looped through a necklace. Pretty – there was a tiny pearl studded on the head, with feathered angel-type wings branching off of it – but kind of useless.

_So why would she go to all that trouble to give it to me?_ she wondered, turning the key around in her palm a couple times. _It just doesn't make sense._

Haylee felt a sharp prick against her palm, and yelping, let go of the key, which landed in front of her on the rock-hard platform that dared call itself her bed. _Damn thing pinched me!_ Taking hold of the slim body with two fingers, careful to avoid the angel wings, she was about to toss it over the side when a flicker of movement caught her eye.

_Movement…_

Slowly, Haylee brought the key to eye level, straightening it so the wings were right-side-up – and _fluttering_. The metal felt warm in her hands, and made her fingertips tingly; the unmistakable tingles of magic.

Her eyes widened. _So that's what was with all the secrecy…_

Even though it looked much too small, somehow Haylee just knew that part of its magic meant it would unlock any lock. The question now was, why in the realms had _Alyssa_ given her something like this?

There were only two possible explanations, really. Either Alyssa had sustained massive brain damage during their fight, or… she actually forgave Haylee for everything she'd done.

_I could leave this hellhole_, it hit her a moment later; a delayed reaction instead of what should have been her first thought. Because what had she spent the last four months dreaming about doing if she ever managed to escape the detention center? Tracking down Alyssa and killing her slowly and painfully.

Something painful twisted in her gut, like she'd swallowed a rose bush, thorns and all. _She trusts me,_ Haylee realized, the insight hitting her like a ton of bricks. _She trusts me, even though I don't deserve it._

She shook her head almost violently, wondering where that thought had come from. It wasn't possible – could she really have developed a soft spot for her bane-of-her-existence half-sister?

_That's impossible._

But just a year ago, she would have said that getting to meet her dad was impossible too. So much had happened in this one year; more excitement than she'd experienced in her first twenty years of life combined. She'd definitely achieved her goal of leaving her mark on Magix (if maybe not in the most positive way), but it seemed that Magix – and everyone in it – had left its mark on her too. And not just Alyssa and Baltor, but Ms Griffin, Sonya, Izzy…

An impatient sort of buzzing sound came from the key, like it was getting sick of flapping its wings for nothing. Acting on pure instinct, Haylee released it, but instead of falling to the ground, it floated over and squeezed through one of the gaps in the bars, slotting into the keyhole, turning, and… _click!_

Her heart beat a mile a minute as the door creaked open, the hinges making a sound like the shriek of metal being torn apart that sent goosebumps down her back. The key made a soft _clink_ as it fell to the floor, immobile once again, and she quickly scooped it up, the metal practically burning her fingertips on contact. It wasn't even until the key was secured in her pocket that she really realized that she was standing outside her cell.

When it did finally hit her, the giddy feeling momentarily threatened to overwhelm her senses. She was free! She could go anywhere, do anything.

But even with the universe at her fingertips, there was still only one thing she really wanted.

Security at the Center was surprisingly lax for a magic prison, but Haylee knew that her window of opportunity was closing fast. Without thinking twice, she closed her eyes and pictured her destination in her mind's eye, her entire body tingling as her four-months-dormant magic began to reawaken.

A slight breeze ruffled through her hair, the sun warm on her face. Her lips spread into a smile as she opened her eyes to see the last place she'd have ever expected herself to want to go after breaking out of prison.

Nascosto.

"Mom! Mom! I'm home!" Feeling like a little kid again, Haylee ran the length of the path to her house, bursting in the front door without even noticing how it looked like it was about to fall off its hinges any second. Exuberance pumping through her veins, she took in the worn rag rug on the wide plank floors, the big rock fireplace dominating one wall, the rustic wood furniture, the kerosene lanterns; all the things that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Except for a scant amount of dust or dirt, everything looked exactly as she'd left it, like all of Nascosto had been preserved in amber, just waiting for her to return.

Slowly, the cheerful buzz started to fade, replaced by something gray and uneasy that gnawed at her stomach. "Mom?" she called again, concern creeping into her voice. She took careful steps down the miniscule hallway, noting places where the wood floors had started to rot away. _Not surprising that Mom didn't keep up the place without me, but where on Earth _is_ she?_

Haylee turned the corner, and inhaled sharply.

_No, no, no, please no…_

"Mom!" she screamed, racing to Isabella's bedside and frantically searching her impossibly pale wrist for a pulse. "Please, wake up!" Not feeling anything, her cries became more desperate. "You have to be okay, do you hear me? You can't just leave me like this! _Mom_!"

Haylee collapsed into sobs, both hands still gripping Isabella's wrist like a lifeline. She'd always known that her mother was likely to die young (no thanks to her illness), but knowing the fact in the abstract was very different from staring down at the reality.

_I made the right choice. I came home. It can't be too late._

To think, she had actually been looking forward to cooking dinner on their big black wood-burning stove, to washing dishes in the stone sink without the conveniences of chemical soap and hot running water. She hadn't been able to wait to sleep in her own bed again, with its straw mattress and hand-woven blanket made of greenish-gray yarn; to hear the contented silence of the country out her window as she slept, rather than the bustle and noise of a big city. But it all meant nothing without Isabella.

_Please,_ she begged. _She doesn't deserve any of this. I'm the one who messed up. Take anything you want from me, but don't take her._

"Ngh…" In her distress, Haylee almost didn't hear the pained groan that croaked its way out of her mother's lips. What did catch her attention was the slight pressure against her hand. Her head snapped up so quickly she felt a twinge of pain in her neck, but ignored it, focusing instead on the fluttering pulse underneath her fingertips. Incredibly weak, but there.

She held her breath as slowly, Isabella's eyelids fluttered, opening to reveal pale blue eyes. "Haylee?" Her voice was thin, almost inaudible, but to Haylee it was the most beautiful sound in the world. "Am I… am I dreaming? Is it really you?"

Haylee didn't bother trying to disguise the fat tears rolling down her cheeks. These ones were tears of joy. "You're not dreaming, Mom. It's really me. And I'm never going to leave you again."

* * *

**Author's Note: Can I get an 'aww…'**

**One tiny little sticky point: for clarity's sake, let's just say that Alyssa _did_ know the key was magic in that it would open any lock (we know she went back to Preserved Memories, so Marianne told her). As for why she did it, well...**

**I hope this clears up some loose ends, like why Sonya and Izzy are only half around, and more about exactly what's wrong with Icy. What I ended up realizing as I was writing this is just how much Haylee's story resembles the hero's journey (studied that at the end of lit class, hehe). And really, in a way, she sort of turned into a hero-type – probably closer to an anti-hero, but she's not rotten to the core. She's got reasons for what she's done, and even if they're not excusable in like a court of law, she's not a psychopath. I feel like I sort of made her into a heartless bitch in most of What's Left of Me, when that's not really what I was going for with her. So I hope this made you empathize with her a little bit more. She's definitely interesting; a lot more flawed than Alyssa, which was a real change of pace to write, and satisfying to characterize in her own way.**

**I swear, I'm honestly starting to like Haylee more than Alyssa at this point. Maybe I'm just burned out on Alyssa after four years, but I had so much fun writing this. It made me feel like playing with bad-girl characters more often. ;-)**

**So what did y'all think? Do you agree with me about liking Haylee now? Do you think it was worth reading 24 pages worth (yes, that's how long this thing wound up being – I just kept finding more and more that needed to be said) about her life?**

**I already said my big sappy goodbyes in ch. 15, so I'll leave it at this for now. Don't forget to keep an eye out for my next project (still TBD), coming soon to computer screens near you.**

**Have an awesome summer, everyone!**

**xoxo,**

**- Authoress**


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